


i have promises to keep

by HeyAssbuttImBatman



Category: Disney Princesses, Frozen (2013)
Genre: #you're welcome, (Better than I intended actually lol whoops), Aftermath of a Disney movie, Elsa finally gets a new outfit that's not made of ice, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Olaf is a good bro, Supportive Relationships, TW: lowercase letters, can we be real here there's no way elsa didn't have a crap ton of issues after the way she grew up, dealing with depression, depressed elsa, depressed kristoff too actually, elsa has good friends, i put elsa in pastels, kristoff and elsa grow to have the best bromance and no one can destroy this headcanon, little bit of body dysphoria, mentions of elsa being suicidal, on a lighter note
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 15:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11603784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyAssbuttImBatman/pseuds/HeyAssbuttImBatman
Summary: Alternate ending in which Elsa's psychological damage is not healed in only a few moments, and the road to recovery is a long and winding one. Luckily for Elsa, she has a family that's all too willing to help her along the way.





	i have promises to keep

**Author's Note:**

> At the end of Frozen, how does love help Elsa gain control over her powers? It never made sense to me, until I rewatched it not too long ago and thought that maybe even confident ice queens can suffer from self-hate. (AKA Elsa is such a pure child who just wants everyone she loves to be safe and happy but someone needs to help her learn to love herself.)
> 
> Also, [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZW25nrh-mxo) song is my Elsa theme (even though it's technically about Yue from The Last Airbender). The title comes from [that Robert Frost poem](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42891/stopping-by-woods-on-a-snowy-evening), which I figure is fitting since it focuses on literal snow (and also some people interpret it as a poem about suicide, which I think is kind of convenient).
> 
> Edit as of 10/23/18: I'm so sick of getting comments (on this platform and others) asking why I didn't use capital letters. I put a warning in the tags because people got so triggered so if you can't handle lowercase letters then don't read this lol

“i love you,” anna says as if it’s obvious, and elsa’s world freezes.

“love,” she whispers to herself, eyes widening in sudden realization. “love will thaw a frozen heart, is that what you said?” olaf nods, smile still fixed firmly on his face as if elsa’s entire worldview hadn’t just shifted and imploded and remade itself entirely anew. 

“elsa, are you okay?” anna asks, concern lacing her voice and swirling in her blue eyes. their eyes are the same color but the shade looks so much warmer nestled amongst anna’s freckles, warm like the summer sky whereas elsa’s are cold and crystalline as ice. the comparison is one she’s made many times before, but never has it had as much significance as it does now, in the face of a revelation of biblical proportions. 

“i’m fine,” elsa says. “and i know how to stop the winter.”

“oh, elsa, i knew you could do it!” always so positive. elsa used to think of anna’s beliefs as naive, but maybe she has the right idea. elsa’s cynical and fearful outlook has certainly done much more harm than good, if the past few days have been any indication.

“i can’t do it right now,” elsa says. “it will take a while. a long while, maybe.”

“we have enough tradeable goods and food stored away that we should be okay for a while if we ration,” anna says determinedly. elsa smiles tightly in response, guilt gnawing away at her insides like the biting storm she often compares herself to. no, that has to stop; if she ever wants to stop this winter, she has to love, she reminds herself. 

she looks at anna, strong, kind, determined anna. how she remains so positive given everything that’s happened in her life (much of which is elsa’s fault, but no, those thoughts have to stop) remains a mystery to elsa, but maybe (hopefully) not for long.

“i can do it,” she says, half to her sister and half to herself. the ship they’re on bobs gently in the water and it reminds elsa of… a lot, but mostly of how the water must still be freezing from its time as a giant ice cube. or maybe that’s the hunger talking; she hasn’t eaten in days.

“i can do it,” she says again. “but i have a lot of work to do before i can.”

…. 

in the end, it takes less time than she expected. six months, give or take a few days. she never explains it to anna, why she couldn’t thaw anything she froze. how would she explain to her sister, who has so much love to give to everyone she meets, who loves unconditionally and with her whole heart, that the secret wasn’t loving someone else, but herself?

….

at first she refuses to come out of her room. how could she, when everything and everyone around her reminds her of her own follies? the castle isn’t destroyed but the damage is extensive. kai hires people to fix it immediately, and because food is more expensive now (because elsa’s… _abnormality_ destroyed _everything_ ) there’s no shortage of people looking for work. 

anna visits her every day and they often sit for hours, talking and catching up, or even just sitting in companionable silence on the days when elsa doesn’t feel like talking. anna doesn’t know (there’s no way she could know, she can’t _know_ ) exactly what’s wrong with elsa, but she must suspect. at the very least, she’s very empathetic and always seems to know when elsa’s having an introspective day. 

it doesn’t happen as much as it used to, back when elsa would often go days without talking and have only her own mind for company. anna helps, more than she could ever know. or maybe she does know; she’s perceptive, much more so than elsa would’ve expected.

she notices it at random times, the first of which comes almost a week after the incident on the ice, as the kingdom has named anna’s death and resurrection. she’s not bothered much by the cold, but even she has her limits, and no fire lasts long in her hearth. anna is, of course, very enthusiastic when elsa asks for something warmer than her ice dress. they’re relatively the same size but elsa is taller and bustier, not much but enough that they can’t share clothes without discomfort. 

elsa’s all for sending someone out to buy something for her, but anna insists on going herself. elsa, having not left her room for a few days, walks her to the castle’s front door, tensing and relaxing in a vicious cycle every time they pass by someone. anna makes no comments on elsa’s jumpiness but she does walk a little closer than usual, so that the backs of their hands brush as they walk. 

afterwards, elsa’s left alone with the promise that her sister will be back in an hour or so, and she finds that she doesn’t want to go back to her room. the castle looks better with the windows and doors open. it’s brighter and more inviting, and elsa passes by a window and feels the sun on her face and a cold breeze in her hair and thinks, _we are never closing them again._

when anna returns, it’s to find elsa curled up on a windowsill in the middle of some random hallway, looking out over their frozen kingdom with an unreadable expression on her face. 

“elsa,” she says softly, not wanting to startle her sister, but with as much joy as always. “i’m back! i think i found something that you’ll love.”

elsa leaves the window with some reluctance. the castle is inviting but her room is not; the windows don’t open and the familiar water damage on the walls and corners and ceiling only remind her of a time when she was living in constant fear of destroying everything she touched.

she follows anna back to the wing that houses the royal family, surprised (even though she shouldn’t be, not when she knows how in tune to emotions anna is) when she’s led past her room and to a door decorated with green and blue flowers in the thin, swoopy style common in their kingdom. she hasn’t been in their old room since the day all of her things were moved out, and it’s different enough that she feels only the slightest pangs of nostalgia when she steps over the threshold. her ice heels click softly on the hardwood. 

“try this one on first,” anna says, shoving a bundle of fabric into her arms. elsa looks at it dubiously, then sighs and retreats behind the changing screen. getting out of her dress is as easy as waving her hand and gathering the millions of tiny ice crystals into one large one. she places it into a flower vase, where it will melt without making a mess, and notes that changing the ice from one form to another is easy; it’s getting rid of it that’s the problem.

the clothes anna’s brought aren’t really what she was expecting. there’s a long, simple skirt in a soft pastel pink color, a white blouse with puffy sleeves and a light brown sleeveless vest to match. instead of her heels she now has the option of wearing soft brown leather slippers that match the colour of the designs on her vest. 

she looks in the mirror. the girl who looks out at her has cold blue eyes and snow white hair and pale, colourless skin and is wearing an outfit that belongs on someone warmer and better than her. 

“i’m not sure about this,” she says to anna’s reflection, watching her with bright blue eyes. “didn’t they have anything in blue or black? something a bit… darker?”

anna’s eyes soften (elsa worries for a second that she _knows_ , but that’s preposterous. she can’t know. right?) and she reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind elsa’s ear. “of course they did. but you wear blue every day, and black would just make you look like you were in mourning.”

“i am in mourning. i’m mourning for the castle and the fjord and kristoff’s ice business.”

“don’t worry about all that,” anna says. “there’s nothing to mourn. the castle and the fjord and his ice business will all still be here when you figure out your powers.” there are a few sharp spikes of ice still poking out of the corners of anna’s ceiling, and elsa’s eyes flick to them almost unconsciously. they seem to mock her with their dangerous beauty. “besides, i think you look good in pink.”

“i always thought i looked better in blue,” elsa says. _i always thought i could never be good enough for anything other than the cold and the dark, elsa says._

“blue suits you,” anna agres. “but pink does, too. you look beautiful, elsa. you should wear pink more often. in face, i’m putting myself in charge of adding more colours to your closet.”

the smallest of smiles graces elsa’s face. she looks in the mirror again. the skirt brings out the faintest blush on her cheeks and the blouse softens the sharp intensity of her hair colour, making it look like the pale blonde it is instead of the snow white it so often appears to be. it does look rather good on her, she has to admit. anna has good taste. yes, maybe her eyes are still as cold as it is outside and yes, maybe her skin is still pale. but she looks good. 

and for now, that’s enough. 

….

the second time anna shows how perceptive she is might actually be the thousandth time, or the two thousandth; she’s lost count. it’s a game they always played as a child, back before elsa’s powers and her faulty aim and her bad judgement almost cost her the sister she’d do anything to protect. elsa spends most of her time in the castle, dealing with the meetings and paperwork and royal audiences that come with being a new queen (that come with being a new queen who abandoned her kingdom for three days). 

anna, on the other hand, has barely any responsibilities and is free to spend as much time outside of the castle as she pleases. which is exactly what she does. oh, sure, once elsa decides to give up her self-imposed isolation anna makes sure to spend at least a few hours each day with her, or maybe less depending on elsa’s schedule. but outside of those few cherished hours, she can normally be found out and about amongst the people, usually dusty and dressed beneath her station and looking as happy as elsa’s ever seen her. 

“i’m so sorry i forced you to stay inside the castle for so long,” elsa said once. anna was reading a book on the bed next to her and she didn’t look surprised even though elsa hadn’t spoken once in the past few hours. 

“i didn’t understand at the time,” anna said, not looking up but obviously no longer reading. “why you did it, i mean. but i do now, and i forgive you.” her eyes flicked up and found elsa staring intensely at her. she smiled softly. “you were only trying to protect yourself, and everyone else. i’d probably do the same thing in your shoes.”

elsa didn’t respond, falling quickly back into thought, but anna didn’t seem offended. she flipped a page in her book.

when they pass in the hallway, elsa waves with one hand and distracts anna with smiles and cheerful greetings. her other hand is hidden in the folds of her skirt (she no longer wears her ice dress. cloth is much warmer and more comfortable, and comes in many different colours. she finds that she’s rather fond of pale green). the fingers give a little flick and send a single snowflake on its way to anna’s nose. sometimes she manages to dodge and sometimes she doesn’t, but it never fails to make both of them smile.

on the bad days, though, elsa looks at her gloves with longing and at her kingdom with guilt and her sister with fear, remembering a lock of red hair turning white, her parents flinching when she lost control of her magic, eyes widening with fear on the night she became queen and exposed herself. on bad days, elsa can barely muster the strength to get out of bed, much less use her magic. 

and anna, sweet, kind, caring anna, never fails to notice. she never mentions it, never brings it up, but when no snowflake comes her way, she always skips right up to elsa and gently taps her once on the nose, a smile on her face and understanding in her eyes. 

_how can you possibly understand?_ elsa wants to ask, but she doesn’t. anna does understand; maybe not the fear elsa has of herself, or the guilt that comes with being who she is, but definitely the fear of being rejected, of not being good enough (and that’s elsa’s fault, probably, but it’s not as if she _meant_ to do it, right?). 

they don’t say it in so many words; they don’t need to say it at all. it’s conveyed through actions and looks, through the soft smile anna saves for elsa that’s so different from her usual grins, in the feeling of skin on skin when they hold hands, in the bright colours of the clothes anna gifts her with every now and then. 

_i’m sorry,_ she wants to say, wants to shout, _i’m sorry that you know what it feels like to be abandoned. i’m sorry you understand my pain._ but she doesn’t say it. yes, she is sorry, but anna knows that. everyone knows that, and they’ve accepted her apologies. it’s okay. 

it’s okay. _she’s_ not okay, but she will be.

….

anna is empathetic. kristoff is less so. anna says it’s because he lacks a woman’s intuition. elsa knows it’s actually because he was raised by trolls and didn’t have much contact with other people. it’s one of the only things they have in common, besides their light hair and their introverted personalities and their love for anna, and it’s not really enough to base a relationship on but it’s enough to start. 

elsa’s not stupid, nor is she blind; she knows there’s something going on between kristoff and anna (when she figures it out she remembers the hardness in anna’s eyes, the steel in her voice as she explains in vague terms what happened between her and hans behind closed doors. elsa was so furious that she’d had to put on the gloves for fear of accidentally lashing out (again)). however, anna’s learned from her brief, fake tryst with hans of the southern isles. elsa can tell that she’s being careful around kristoff, but elsa can also tell that kristoff is a good person and he genuinely cares for her sister. 

maybe that’s why she tracks him down on one of her rare free days. it’s not as hard as she thought it would be; all she has to do is find sven, and it’s not like a reindeer is hard to spot when surrounded by people and the occasional horse or donkey. 

she finds them, unsurprisingly, at the edge of the fjord, relaxing against a mound of snow and gazing at the vast expanse of ice before them and the mountain beyond that. sven lows happily when he sees her and she smiles and offers him an apple. she knows he eats carrots often but surely he must get tired of them. as sven munches happily on her offering, she walks all the way around the mound and stops a safe distance away from kristoff. her dress today is one that any other person would save for warmer weather, but it’s not snowing today and the yellow of the short skirt is the same colour as the ribbon in her hair. she clenches a fold of fabric between two ungloved fingers.

“your majesty,” kristoff greets, nodding at her politely before turning his attention back to the ice. “is there something i can help you with?”

how can she explain this in a way that makes sense? _i want to get to know you, because we both love anna and because we were both isolated as children. maybe you can help me heal._

“i’ve been looking at the fjord from the castle for three weeks, and i wanted to see it up close,” she says instead. kristoff studies her for a moment, then scoots over and pats the ground next to him. elsa sits. for a few peaceful moments, they simply sit in companionable silence, the reindeer and the queen and the icemaster.

“most people,” kristoff says after a while, “the fishermen especially, would disagree with me, but i think the fjord looks beautiful like this.”

elsa looks at him in surprise. “i can’t think of anyone who would agree with you,” she says. 

“not even yourself?” he asks. “this is your doing, after all.”

the words sting, even though his tone is curious and not callous. anna is empathetic, and kristoff is not. but kristoff is honest in an innocent sort of way, the way that makes you want to trust him and open up to him and believe everything he tells you. hans was the same way, but hans and kristoff are different. kristoff never tried to kill elsa, for one. 

“i would rather the winter be over,” elsa says. “i know everyone must think that i love the snow and the ice and the cold because of my powers.”

he looks at her as if he’s expecting her to continue, but she doesn’t know what else to say. that everyone is right? that they’re wrong? she’s not even sure herself. 

“well, i can’t speak for anyone else, but i love winter time,” kristoff says. “i’m sure you know this, but i was raised on the mountain. ice and snow and cold? that’s all i knew for most of my life. that’s what i think of when i think of home.” 

elsa doesn’t respond. she lifts her hand and extends it towards the fjord and twists her wrist, scooping the air and making a fist at the same time. nothing happens and her hand falls back into her lap.

“i don’t know what i think of when i think of home,” she says. she looks beautiful in her dress, in the soft pastels and bright colours that anna buys for her. for the first time in two weeks, it’s not enough. “and i don’t know what else i have to do.”

there’s no way kristoff could know what she’s referring to but he nods anyway. 

“i was lost for a while, too,” he says. “the first time i left the mountain since i started living with the trolls, i came to arendelle to try my hand at trading. when i went back home after that, it was with the feeling that i was alone even though i was always surrounded by people. or trolls. it took me a while to find a place where i fit in, but i found it eventually.”

“where is that place, for you?” elsa asks.

“it turns out it’s right here,” kristoff says. “right here, with ice surrounding me and sven at my side and somewhere warm to go to at night.” he turns to look at her. his eyes are big and brown, so different from her own and yet filled with the same understanding. “i love the ice, queen elsa,” he says. “most people don’t. but what other people think doesn’t matter. don’t let them pressure you into doing something—being someone—you don’t want.”

he holds her gaze steadily and she looks away first. she didn’t notice before, but it’s almost night; the sun is setting and the light is flared bright yellow as if giving one last hurrah before disappearing until morning. the ice reflects it like a giant mirror, scattering it and sending colours and patterns dancing across the surface. it’s beautiful, anyone would admit that. it’s also cold and dangerous.

“if i don’t stop the winter soon, the kingdom will suffer,” she says. “the people will hate me.”

kristoff shrugs. “probably,” he agrees easily. “but no one is loved by everyone. no one is even loved by almost everyone.”

“anna is.”

“anna is special,” kristoff says, and elsa silently agrees. “she makes everyone love her. us normal people? we have to learn, sooner or later, that you can never please everyone.”

elsa’s never been called normal before. she doesn’t know how she feels about it. “how do you know who to please, then?” she asks. 

“easy. you please the people you want to please. but the first person should always be yourself. after all, if you aren’t happy with yourself, how can you expect anyone else to be?”

elsa looks at him, but his gaze is fixed on the ice, a serene smile tugging his lips up. she shifts into a more comfortable position and buries her hand in sven’s fur. she’s never touched a reindeer before; he’s soft and warm, and he lows at her with happy eyes when she starts scratching underneath his harness. 

“sven likes you,” kristoff says. “and in case you needed confirmation, i do, too.”

kristoff is not an empathetic person. kristoff is honest and experienced. and he apparently likes her. elsa likes him, too, but she doesn’t say so. instead she rests her shoulder against his and hopes that he understands. 

….

(kristoff likes elsa and elsa likes kristoff and kristoff likes himself but does elsa like herself? it’s not a question she’s ever asked herself before. she’s not sure how to answer it.)

….

walking around the castle is easy. walking around the kingdom is not. there’s a marketplace right outside the gates of the castle courtyard and it’s filled with people even on the days that aren’t market days. if elsa’s first step was being able to leave her room on her own, and her second step was initiating conversation with her servants, her third step is definitely going outside.

she’s not ready.

“i’m not ready,” she says, running a hand through her hair. her fingers tangle in her braid and yank more than a handful of strands loose, and anna clicks her tongue disapprovingly as she reaches up to redo it.

“of course you’re not,” she agrees. “but if you wait until you are, you’re never going to leave the castle. this isn’t the sort of thing you’re ever ready for.”

“anna, i froze the entire kingdom. it’s still frozen and i’m not even sure when i’ll be able to fix it. if i’m going to be hated by my subjects, i’d rather it be with a stone gate between us.”

“why are you so sure they’ll hate you?”

“did you miss the part where i froze the entire kingdom?”

anna ties off the braid with a thin purple ribbon. “purple is the colour of royalty, you know. it suits you.”

“you think every colour suits me,” elsa says, allowing the change of subject. 

“that’s because every colour does suit you. i happen to know for a fact that yellow clashes horribly with my hair but when you wear it you look like a daisy.”

elsa giggles. “a daisy? that’s a first.”

“it seems there’ll be a lot of firsts today,” anna says, and the smile abruptly drops off of elsa’s face.

“i don’t want to do this,” she says. anna furrows her brows and puffs up her cheeks, obviously frustrated. 

“you’re their queen, elsa, and a grown woman besides. i understand that you don’t want to do this but sometimes we have to do things that we’d rather not. do you think i wanted to go running up a mountain in the middle of the night?”

elsa flinches and anna’s eyes widen.

“elsa,” she says.

“no, you’re right,” elsa interrupts, straightening her back even though all she wants to do is bend under the weight of everything she carries. “i need to face my fears. besides, they’ll be expecting me, won’t they?” she offers a small, fake smile to her sister, who watches her with worried eyes. 

“yes, they will,” she says softly. “elsa, i’m-”

“just forget it, anna.” elsa grabs a pair of gloves as she exits the room, anna hot on her heels. they’re made of soft white silk and only come up to her wrists, but elsa feels guilty as she slips them on. anna doesn’t say anything about them and elsa doesn’t look at her, ashamed even though she has no reason to be. _or don’t i?_

elsa’s eyes widen when anna grabs her shoulder and forces her to turn around. she looks angry, and elsa automatically hides her hands behind her dress, but anna’s eyes don’t waver from hers for a second. 

“i won’t forget it,” she says. “miscommunication is what got us into this mess in the first place, and i won’t let it drive us apart again.”

“anna, it’s not a big deal,” elsa says. 

“no, it’s not, but i still need to apologize for it. i’m sorry for what i said.”

“anna.” 

“i didn’t mean it and it was incredibly insensitive of me to say just because i was irritated. it’s true that i didn’t want to chase after you but only because i wished that you’d never run off in the first place. i’ll never regret those three days, okay?”

anna’s eyes are the same shade as elsa’s, and for once they burn with the same icy passion. elsa’s own eyes feel suspiciously wet. she wonders if it’s possible for her to melt.

“okay,” she says, and gladly returns the hug anna pulls her into. 

….

she’s still not ready, but maybe anna was right when she said that elsa would never be, because while she was expecting the glares and whispers, she wasn’t expecting how few of them there were, or how many smiles and bows and cheerful greetings she gets in return. 

“you’re their queen,” anna says in response to elsa’s confused look. “and i may have spent the past few weeks spreading your story around to garner sympathy.”

“what story is that?”

“the tale about the magical ice princess who was locked in the castle with her sister for fear of thieves and kidnappers that were after her powers.” anna’s voice is purposefully overdramatic but the tale holds enough truth to dredge up memories. elsa looks around and flicks her fingers. the snow continues to fall softly, the fjord remains frozen. her hand tightens into a fist.

“this is the shop where i buy most of your dresses,” anna says. the woman outside the shop pauses in her sweeping to curtsy and elsa nods back politely.

“oh, you do have good taste, princess!” the shopkeeper says. she eyes elsa’s dress and elsa has the suspicion that her current attire came from this shop. “purple suits you, your highness.” anna shoots her a smug smile that elsa pretends not to see.

they continue on their way. many of the shops are closed and the streets feel empty and cold even though there are plenty of people out (people shivering and dressed too warmly considering it’s summer and people cursing at her behind her back, people angry and vengeful and people who will _hurt her if she can’t figure out her powers and–_ ).

….

(empty and cold. she used to feel that way, too. now she doesn’t know what she feels.)

….

they find a small stall selling soup and stop there to eat. elsa doesn’t take her gloves off as she sips at her mug and so she’ll never know if the soup would have frozen if she’d touched it. (she remembers a candlestick and an ornament and feeling safe under the stern gaze of her father (even if he was only oils on canvas))

(she remembers standing tall and proud and _horrified_ as ice spread across metal as quickly as a plague and just as devastating–)

….

the moon is high and bright and full in the sky and it reminds elsa of herself. the moon is pale and so is she; it reflects the sun’s light just as elsa will forever reflect her sister’s (for if she is the moon then it only makes sense that anna, with her loving warmth and fiery hot-temperedness, is the sun).

(elsa never was warm to the touch anyway.)

….

elsa tries. 

(from the safety of her room, she sees a flower pot through her window. her fingers flick and frost immediately spreads across the ceramic surface. she twists her wrist and the fjord remains frozen.)

(from the hardness of the frozen floor, she sees her sister flying carefree through the air. her hand shoots out and ice knocks anna onto a pile of snow. she pushes back soft red hair and cries as one lock turns white.)

elsa tries but she always, _always_ fails.

….

anna asks kristoff to move into the palace exactly one month and one week after the incident on the ice. she talks with elsa before she does, and elsa feels warm in a way that has nothing to do with the fire she’s building because the castle is anna’s home and she can do what she wishes, yet she made sure elsa was comfortable before doing anything. 

(her hand can only get so close to the fire before it starts to burn. the distance is much farther than it would be for someone not made of ice and loneliness.)

(she’s surrounded by people but she feels so alone)

kristoff moves sven into the stables and his tools into a storage room and his clothes into the room across from anna’s. there are five rooms in the royal wing; elsa’s is the one at the end of the hallway, the one that her parents used to use. kristoff’s is the one elsa occupied for thirteen years. 

(she asks him if he’d like to move rooms. he looks at the water-damaged walls and the large window, the sill still rusted from years of being covered and recovered in ice. he looks at the pale blue and purple designs on the door and the walls, and the long, low fireplace, and the hundreds of tiny tallies etched into the wall by the place where the bed used to be. 

he says he’s fine right where he is.)

….

watching kristoff and anna interact is fascinating, like watching a tiny flame dancing around a water droplet. they seem like opposites at first but kristoff quickly casts aside his shyness and reveals a love for bad puns and goofy voices and singing, and a devotion to anna that makes elsa’s breath catch. she’s seen that kind of love, that selflessness, before; it was directed at her whenever she caught her parents’ gaze. 

(she passes the portrait often. none of the staff ever found out who took down the lacy black curtain that covered it.)

with the evolution of anna and kristoff’s relationship comes the beginning of elsa and kristoff’s. he likes to read and she’ll often go into the library to find him curled up in a chair by the fire with a book of poetry in his hands. he has nightmares, too. once he fell asleep in that armchair and woke up hours later with terror in his eyes and anna’s name on his lips. elsa didn’t say anything but she twirled her fingers and formed him a tiny troll out of ice, complete with its own cloud to prevent it from melting. 

she knows for a fact he still has it. 

she learns that he hates running and loves hot baths and used to watch the aurora and wish that his father had come back for him. in return, she shows him the poetry she wrote as a child, teaches him how to skate, tells him of how much it hurt every time anna tried to get her to leave her room (she doesn’t say how much it hurt when anna stopped trying, but she thinks he can guess).

and every single day without fail, he compliments her. no, not her; her _ice_. her powers and what she creates with them. he treats those as if they’re things of beauty instead of the curse she always imagined them to be. 

(“that ice sculpture is your best one yet!”

“it’s incredible how you make such intricate frost patterns.”

“you always look so happy whenever you’re using your powers; it suits you far better than yellow ever could”)

anna could never imagine elsa not loving her powers; how could she, when they’re so incredible? but kristoff? he gets it. he knows. but more than just that, he _knows_ , like anna never could and like elsa wished no one ever would. 

“it’s a hard feeling to shake,” he tells her once. “it clings like ice to warm skin and it doesn’t want to let go, and it never leaves, not really. it’ll take time but you’re strong; i know you can overcome this.”

“how did you know?” elsa asks. kristoff smiles bitterly and his warm brown eyes flash like ice. 

“i see the same look on your face as i did whenever i looked at my reflection a few years ago,” he says, and elsa doesn’t ask any more questions. 

….

with anna and kristoff and even sven all living in the palace now, it only makes sense that olaf be the next to join their merry group. elsa isn’t exactly sure what happened to the snowman after… everything ( _the howl of the wind and the biting cold that made even her flinch, the metallic ringing of a sword being unsheathed and the tiredness in elsa’s limbs as she heard it but didn’t move, and the all-consuming, overwhelming agony as she cradles her sister’s icy face–_ ) but kristoff said olaf could normally be found roaming around the town. so that’s where she looks. 

the people still don’t know what to make of her. she still doesn’t know what to make of herself, so she can’t really blame them. still, they direct her to a tiny house made of snow that was constructed in the center of the village plaza. there’s a bell hung on a wooden post outside the door. elsa rings it and wonders what would happen if she made olaf a snow brain. 

“elsa!” he sounds excited when he sees her and elsa represses a surge of guilt. he’s her creation, her responsibility, but she’s been busy these past two months and it’s understandable that she forgot about him. at least, that’s what she tells herself. 

“hello, olaf,” she says. “i like your house. did you build it yourself?”

“a few of the village kids helped me,” he tells her. “hey! You’re not wearing your ice dress anymore!” he sounds incredibly happy about this, but he sounds incredibly happy about most things so elsa doesn’t take it personally. 

“i’ve been told that i look like a daisy in yellow,” she says, and he narrows his eyes and tilts his head. 

“well, i’ve always said that yellow and snow is a no-go,” olaf says, “so i guess it’s a good thing you’re not snow.”

“yes, i’d say i’m ice instead of snow,” elsa muses. olaf looks at her strangely. 

“you’re not ice either,” he says. “and i should know; _i’m_ snow. hey, that rhymed!”

olaf often goes off on tangents if unchecked but it isn’t hard to get his attention again. “what would you call me, then, if i’m not ice and i’m not snow?”

“that’s easy. you’re elsa!” he says. 

….

(olaf moves into the castle and asks to sleep in elsa’s room. anna doesn’t do anything but smile when she sees the tiny bed of snow sitting next to elsa’s.)

….

elsa is surprised when it only takes three months for her subjects to get used to her and her powers. anna only smiles the first time a child asks if elsa wants to build a snowman with him, but it completely blindsides the queen. 

(they build a snowman right in front of his house. the child names it fluffy despite the claws and fangs he’d insisted on adding.)

“i told you they’d come around,” anna says at dinner that night. they have a very large dining room and a table that can seat dozens of people, but they also have a small sitting room with a table perfectly capable of seating three people and a small snowman, and this is where they meet for meals more often than not. 

“you did,” elsa agrees. “i just wasn’t expecting it… to happen so soon.” only kristoff seems to notice her hesitance, and she shakes her head the tiniest bit. he doesn’t mention it. 

“well, our subjects are resilient,” anna says proudly. 

“yeah, they’re holding up remarkably well,” kristoff adds. 

“considering their queen is a witch or that she froze their kingdom?” elsa asks lightly. 

“considering they don’t understand magic,” anna replies, frowning slightly. “elsa, are you okay? you’ve hardly touched your food.”

“i guess i’m just not hungry.” everyone else is onto the main course but elsa’s still idly stirring a cold bowl of soup. her spoon doesn’t have any frost on it but if anyone were to touch it they’d recoil from how cold it is. “i had a late lunch, anna, don’t worry.”

anna drops it, albeit with obvious reluctance, and olaf changes the subject to ice fishing. elsa’s not sure whether he did it on purpose or not, but his hand gently pats her knee underneath the table and he offers her a small smile when she catches his eye. 

….

it’s become a ritual, as much of a habit as unbraiding her hair before bed or biting her lip when she’s concentrating. every night, after olaf falls asleep, elsa gets out of bed and pads silently to the window. she reaches out with one hand, both hands, a finger, and tries and tries and _tries_.

it’s never enough. the fjord remains frozen, the sky remains cloudy and grey. 

(there’s beauty in snow and ice and there’s beauty in her; she touches the window and no ice spreads from her fingertips; every weekend she freezes the ground of the courtyard and skates with her subjects.

it’s never enough and she doesn’t know what she’s doing _wrong_ )

….

the months pass by and the air remains frigid, the snow falls naturally, and the sky is grey in a way that has nothing to do with elsa’s powers and everything to do with the come of true winter. usually there’d be a flurry of activity as people prepared for the cold, stocking up on firewood and blankets and warm clothes, but winter started months ago for the people of arendelle; in fact, elsa’s not convinced she’s not the only one who even noticed the start of the season. 

if she manages to unfreeze the fjord now, the snow and the ice and the cold will remain. people probably won’t even know that it was her doing. there’s really no point in continuing to try until the weather begins to get warmer. 

(elsa doesn’t stop trying.)

(people always call anna the stubborn one but she only learned to be so strong-willed by watching elsa.)

….

it’s nearing the end of winter and elsa is no closer to melting the fjord than she was five months ago. she feels overwhelmed, both with her royal duties and her obligation to fix her mistakes.

(anna assures her that she’s under no such obligation, but anna doesn’t know that she flinches slightly whenever she touches anything cold.)

(elsa’s cold.)

kristoff, despite his understanding, isn’t helpful. he’s firmly on anna’s side, stuck in the belief that all elsa needs is time, that her subjects will learn to accept her fully. they accept her already, show up in droves to skate in the courtyard every week, gasp with delight whenever elsa uses her powers where they can see. she knows this, and they know this, and the only reason they keep saying it is because they can’t think of any other way to dissuade elsa from stopping her obsession.

she doesn’t remember the last time she slept more than a few hours at a time; her meals are small and remain mostly untouched, which is why she’s started taking her meals alone (where anna won’t see her and give her concerned looks).

she looks in the mirror and the first thing she notices are the dark bags under her eyes, the tension in her shoulders, the way her hair looks like it hasn’t been brushed in days (it hasn’t).

_i need to rest_ , she thinks, followed quickly by, _i’ll rest once my kingdom is safe. i’m fine for now._

(she’s never been a good liar.)

….

elsa gives up. 

five and a half months in and she stops looking at the fjord, stops getting out of bed in the middle of the night, stops listening to the tiny voice in the back of her head that hisses doubts into her ear. after two days of proper sleep and food, the change is very noticeable. she looks healthier and isn’t as cranky. 

(she’s healthier. that doesn’t mean she’s happier.)

“i’m worried,” she tells olaf one night. he quickly became her closest confidant, both because of his ability to keep secrets and his predisposition for physical comfort. elsa’s no longer touch starved, per se, but she tries not to let people touch her, knowing that her icy skin can be off-putting. olaf, though? made of snow already, so her lack of body heat doesn’t bother him. 

“what are you worried about?” he asks, looking at elsa despite the fact that her gaze is fixed firmly on her hands. 

“how am i supposed to stop the winter if i don’t keep trying? i know it was… affecting me, but surely i could keep pushing myself until i figured it out and then take a break.”

“elsa,” olaf says, “how hard do you have to try to use your powers?”

“not hard at all. before i accepted them they used to come out whether i wanted them to or not.”

“thawing the winter should be like using your powers, just backwards,” olaf tells her cheerfully. “i’m actually not sure, since i don’t have powers.” he looks at his wooden hands, then up at elsa. “at least, i don’t think i do. do i?”

elsa can’t help but laugh. “no, olaf, you don’t,” she says. she frowns. “but are you saying that it should come easy to me?”

“i think so? here, why don’t we try this: can you make something out of ice?”

elsa thinks for a moment before twirling a finger above her palm. a rose of ice manifests in a small shower of blue sparks, crystalline and perfect. she smiles a bit; it’s small and barely noticeable (she spent years hiding herself from the world. that doesn’t go away in only a few months) but it’s _there_.

“now make it go away,” olaf says, and elsa stops smiling. 

“olaf, i can’t,” she says. “that’s the problem.”

“well, the fjord is a big thing. maybe you just need to start small,” olaf suggests. she is dubious, but willing to humour him. she focuses on the rose with furrowed brows and the tip of her tongue poking out from between her lips. she twirls her finger like she did to create the rose, this time imagining it melting into a puddle of water in her palm. 

nothing happens, and she sighs and tries not to let her bitterness show. she’s expecting olaf to shrug and tell that it’ll come to her, like anna or kristoff would have; it surprises her when he waddles over to her and reaches up to gently close her eyes. 

“what do you imagine when you try?” he asks. 

“i imagine it melting,” elsa says. she can’t see him frowning but the silence after she speaks is telling. she wants to see his expression but keeps her eyes closed; it’s easier to face disappointment when she doesn’t have to look it in the eyes.

“melting,” olaf repeats. “elsa, why would you want to destroy your ice?”

“i’m not destroying it. i just want to get rid of it,” elsa says. 

“melting it _is_ destroying it,” olaf says. there’s another silence, this one more tense than the first. elsa opens her eyes and clenches her fist so hard around the rose that its stem snaps in half. olaf looks stern, which, considering how happy he normally is, is the angriest she’s ever seen her. she wonders at the fairness of the universe; she created him, but of course it’s _her_ who upsets him so much. she doesn’t even know what she’s done. 

“your ice doesn’t deserve to be destroyed,” olaf says, still stern, still a little too close to elsa for comfort. his presence has always been bigger than his small body, though, and it holds her rooted to her seat. “getting rid of it doesn’t have to mean making it cease to be.”

elsa’s throat tightens and she swallows, hard. “i don’t know what else to do with it,” she whispers. “i was told that fear would be my enemy, and people are afraid of my ice.”

“they were scared because they didn’t understand you and because you couldn’t control your powers,” olaf says. “but now they know that you would never hurt them, and you don’t need your gloves anymore. fear _is_ your enemy, but it’s no one else’s fear but your own.”

a tear slips down her cheek, burning hot compared to her icy skin. it scorches a fiery trail across her face but she doesn’t move to wipe it away.

“i am not afraid of myself,” she whispers. 

“you are,” olaf says, and elsa clenches her eyes shut. the rose shatters in her grip and she unclenches her fist, letting the shards fall to the floor. when did olaf learn to be so cruel?

“i’m not,” she says. the tears start flowing freely now, racing down to the point of her chin and dripping onto the fabric of her shirt. she only realises she’s standing when olaf tugs at her hand. looking down, she sees him grasping her finger in all of his, looking up at her with furrowed brows. 

“you are,” he says softly. “but you don’t have to be, not anymore.”

she slumps back down onto her bed like a puppet whose strings have been cut. the ice shards have already started to melt on her floor, and with a twirl of her fingers she gathers the water into a perfectly round sphere in her palm. 

“but i could hurt them,” she says. “i _am_ hurting them the longer this winter continues.”

“you could, if you wanted to,” olaf says. “but you don’t want to, and that’s why you’re not the monster they thought you were.”

“i always thought i was,” elsa murmurs. she feels tired all of a sudden, drained like she hasn’t been since she was a child and a tantrum had left her room coated in ice. she can’t even muster the energy to wipe her face, even though the tear tracks are starting to itch. “most children are taught to fear the monster under their bed. _i_ was taught to fear the monster in the mirror.”

“well, maybe you didn’t have very good teachers,” olaf says, and elsa is angry again. 

“my parents did their best,” she says fiercely. 

“maybe,” olaf says. “but that doesn’t mean what they did was right. they were scared of your powers, too.”

“they had every right to be,” elsa says. “i was dangerous as a child.”

“and you’re dangerous now, but that doesn’t mean anything when you have no intent to harm anyone.”

elsa is conflicted. olaf is right when he says she doesn’t want to hurt anyone, but he doesn’t know everything. she hadn’t wanted to hurt anna that day in the ballroom, all those years ago, but she had. she’d also been only a child back then, and now she has better control of her powers….

as if to prove it to herself, she turns the smooth surface of the sphere spiky and jagged, sharp enough to cause serious damage if handled carelessly. then, she smooths it out again. she imagines that the ice is actually snow, soft and powdery as she smoothes it down, imagines that the spikes fall away easily under fingers. she can feel the way her eyes soften as she looks at her own inverted reflection in the ice’s fragmented surface. 

_it’s just ice, but i can’t help but feel bad for it. i made it,_ she thinks. then, in a gentle voice that she imagines a mother might use to calm an infant, she thinks half-jokingly, _go gentle into that good night._ much to her surprise, the ball breaks apart into thousands of tiny ice crystals that melt the instant they touch the floor. she stares after them in shock. 

“you did it!” olaf says. 

elsa doesn’t reply, too confused by what she’s done. 

“how did i…?” she whispers. and then she’s angry. “after all this time, all these months of trying, that’s all it took?” she seethes. olaf’s eyes widen and he steps away from her. at first she thinks he’s afraid of her and that drains all the anger right out of her body, replacing it instead with hurt and shame. but olaf (sweet, kind, selfless olaf, who was somehow born of _her_ ) only moves far back enough so he’s not in the way of her knees when he gently pushes her to sit again. the tears haven’t stopped. 

(she’s never cried quite like this before. usually it’s desperate, gasping sobs or tiny, stifled whimpers. never has it been so… happy.)

poor olaf looks like he doesn’t know what to do with himself as she cries, releasing months (and years and a _lifetime_ ) of pent up frustration. in the end he ends up leaning against her leg with one of his hands resting on her knee, occasionally giving her a comforting pat. 

(the world isn’t good enough for olaf.)

((in that case, elsa _definitely_ isn’t good enough for olaf. but he’s more than capable of choosing who he wants to spend time with, and if he chooses elsa, well. what can she do but just try to be the best she can be, for him?))

“are you going to tell anna?” he asks a little while later. 

elsa lies back on her bed and closes her eyes. she thinks of anna’s radiant smile, and the smaller, softer one she saves for when someone she loves does something endearing. she thinks of kristoff’s unwavering belief in her, and the little ice troll she knows he keeps on his bedside table. but most of all, she thinks of her people, and the hardships they’ve endured, and how quickly they warmed up to her.

“no,” elsa says. “i’m going to show her.”

….

on the six month anniversary of the day when anna punched prince hans of the southern isles off the side of a boat (most people refer to it as the day when queen elsa came home, but elsa likes her title better), elsa wears a long white dress with a light blue cape. anna gives her a worried look when they meet outside her door, probably (most definitely) because elsa hasn’t worn anything solely white or blue or black in six months, but elsa assures her it doesn’t mean anything. 

(a lie, but not something anna would worry about if she knew.)

(the truth is that elsa’s spent her whole life hiding the cold, icy parts of her from the world. now she feels no need to. she is an ice queen; everyone’s accepted that, so she thinks it’s about time she started wearing her favourite colours again.)

(besides, she looks _damn_ good in the colours of the ice. daisies are pretty, but they can’t hold a candle to a white rose.)

elsa and anna are holding hands as they appear on elsa’s balcony. the castle courtyard is filled to the brim with people, all of them there because of the royal decree that had been sent out a week ago. everyone thinks elsa’s going to give a speech. even elsa thought she was going to give a speech, up until about five minutes ago. they’d probably rather have summer back than listen to a speech, anyway. 

her subjects break into cheers when they see the sisters, and elsa lets it go on for only a moment before putting her hand up for silence. she doesn’t put it down even after the noise stops. her hair is loose from its braid, for once. a cool breeze brushes by and the soft strands tickle her cheeks. she is invigorated. 

“are you ready?” she calls out breathlessly. she couldn’t stop the wide smile from splitting her face if she wanted to. confused murmurs break out and in the corner of her eye Elsa can see her sister giving her a weird look. she doesn’t focus on any of that, instead keeping her gaze on her fingers. she wiggles them, and blue sparks fly from her fingertips. 

she’s been practicing like crazy over the past two weeks, but unlike before this time she did so with supervision. her loyal, ditzy snowman with the purest heart she’s ever come across has been by her side every step of the way. every success made her confidence in herself swell, leading to this exact moment in time, when her own anticipation and confidence feel too much for her body to contain. 

she lets go of Anna’s hand and takes a deep breath in. everyone and everything stills. even the wind ceases. it’s as if the entire world is waiting with bated breath for her. 

“Elsa,” Anna whispers. 

Elsa spreads her arms out and slowly lifts them, closing her eyes as she feels the cold rush of magic fill her veins. she doesn’t look, not until her hands are directly above her head and the sound of startled gasps has become background noise. she looks up at the snowflake in the sky. no two snowflakes are ever alike, she knows, but this one looks strangely like the one from the vision the trolls showed her as a child. she finds the parallel strangely fitting. 

her hands fly apart and the snow follows suit, exploding outwards in all directions until all that’s left of her winter are the thick clothes her people are wearing. Elsa exhales carefully, her grin softening into something more private and satisfied. Elsa looks at the crowd challengingly, feeling, for once, like she’s finally found a reason to be proud of herself. the people are silent. 

Then, cheers. 

The noise is nearly deafening after such stillness, and six months ago Elsa would’ve shied away from it. Now, she revels in the cheers, lets the crowd’s infectious jubilation gather under her skin and quicken her heartbeat. She can spot Olaf and Kristoff among the masses easily, standing as they are next to Sven’s furry bulk. The snowman is dancing with some excited child, but Kristoff is still, staring up at the balcony with an expression that Elsa can’t see from so far away. Still, if she could see it, she’s sure it would be ridiculously proud. 

At her side, Anna lets out a loud, happy squeal and barrels into Elsa, nearly knocking them both over as they wrap their arms around each other. 

“That was incredible!” Anna says, laughing. She pulls back and her expression is so fond and loving that Elsa has to close her eyes lest she tear up. Anna seems to understand (of course she does) and she doesn’t say anything as she cups Elsa’s cheeks. Only after Elsa opens her eyes does she whisper, “I knew you could do it.”

And Elsa smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Why... did I put... so many damn italics...in this fic...?


End file.
